Aksana Smiles
I shoot up from beneath the bathwater, gasping.
It can't be.
I climb out of the tub, trying not to slip on the water pooled on the floor. The footprints of muddy, bare feet trail across the tile and into the house.
A slender figure stands at the end of the hall, barely visible in the moonlight.
It is.
Aksana, with the glowing smile. The waitress who sidestepped suspicion, thinking it impolite.
She fought harder than the other girls.
The marks on her wrists are the same. But, now her smile is dark, dirty, broken. Her grin widens.
I deserve-
Sleepless in Seattle
"I'm sorry, Miss. But we just closed the elevators for the evening. You can try to come back tomorrow." The security guard frowned at Annie from across the marble desktop.
"I'll only be a moment." Annie batted her eyelashes at the old man, hoping to woo him over with innocence.
"Ma'am. I'm sorry that it was such a close call but I really can't make exceptio-"
"Haven't you ever been in love? Passionate, dreamy, all-consuming love?"
"Been married forty years. I vaguely remember the concept."
"The love of my life could be up there, but I'll never know if I don-"
"Miss-?"
"Annie."
"Miss Annie. I'm sorry to hear about your predicament, but if you don't leave, I'm going to have to escort you out."
"Oh! You crotchety old bastard! "Annie rushed around the desk and gave the security guard a swift kick in the knee.
The old man fell to the floor, cradling his injury. Annie jerked the baton from his belt and whacked the side of his head. She whipped her head from side to side, eyes darting wildly in search of witnesses. Satisfied with the deserted lobby, Annie threw the baton on the floor, rolled the guard's body underneath his desk, and headed for the top of the Empire State Building.
---
The elevator doors opened and Annie was met with emptiness. She was alone, again. She walked to the edge of the railing and looked out over New York City. She was far, far, away from home. Beneath her, thousands of lovers held each other closer in the night. There were even more people looking for love. She'd left her ex-fiancé at a restaurant three blocks away. He smiled when she told him the news. He urged her to leave, to go find Sleepless in Seattle, the mysterious lonely man she'd heard on the radio. Walter was, had always been, supportive of her dreams. As she continued to scan the skyline, a mass of colored fabric lingered in her peripherals. She looked down to the concrete and found a child's backpack. She unzipped it to find a lonely, weatherworn teddy bear.
The elevator chimed and Annie turned excitedly to face it, butterflies flapping furiously in her stomach. The doors slid open and a tall man with dark hair emerged from behind them. A little boy trailed closely behind.
"That's it! That's mine!" The child ran up to Annie and tugged at the teddy bear in her hands.
"Jonah!" the man scolded.
"Jonah?" Annie's heart began to pound.
The child peered at her curiously. "Annie?"
"Son, you know this woman?" The man stopped and stared at Annie, familiarity forming in his furrowed brow.
"Yeah, she's the one who wrote that letter!"
"Jonah, back away. Right now."
"What? But Dad-"
"Now, Jonah-"
"W-w-wait, hold on a second, Sam-"
"Sam? How the hell do you know my name?! Jonah, did you tell her our names?"
"No, Dad..."
"How do you know who I am?"
"I-I-I may have hired someone-"
"You hired someone?"
"Well yes-"
"My god. The woman standing in the road. At the beach. Watching us. It was you."
"Well, I just happened to be in that part of the country a-a-and-"
"That part of the country? Where do you live, Annie?"
"Baltimore."
"Baltimore?! You flew to Seattle-"
"Sam, please-"
The elevator doors chimed and slid open for the second time. Two police officers stepped out onto the rooftop.
"Step away, ma'am."
"Oh really, this is just a big misunderstanding-"
"Was it a misunderstanding when you cracked the guard's head? Old man had to drag himself to a pay phone."
Sam looked at Annie in horror. "You did what?"
Annie grabbed Jonah by the hood of his coat and the eight-year-old began to cry for his father. The police officers inched forward, weapons raised and Annie shrieked, insisting they lower their firearms.
"Jonah, sweetie, please stop crying. L-look here, I've got your backpack and I know you want a new mommy-"
Jonah jammed the back of his sneaker into the top of Annie's foot. The heel of her stiletto snapped and she stumbled, rolling onto her ankle. Jonah ran to his father and the officers take the opportunity offered by the chaos. Before Annie can tend to her injury, she is swooped up, handcuffed, and escorted to the elevator doors. The doors open and Annie and the police officers enter and turn around, facing Sam and Jonah. Annie gives Sam a soft smile. Sam shudders and pulls Jonah in closer to him. The elevator doors slide shut and Sam and Jonah stand alone on the rooftop of the Empire State Building, chilled by the February night air.
Banned
"You know, this one was actually quite a good read."
"Hush, Hugh! You want the chancellor to hear you?! Jameson, you're not going to say anything?!" spat Bryant.
"Settle, you two. Here's a light. Pile's starting to fizzle out and we've got a truckload to work through by midnight. And take it easy, Bryant. Chancellor's barely heard his own farts in seven years. Chamber bombing nearly took him out. Not that he wasn't already one foot in the grave. Man's a relic. Don't know how the council still lets him pass laws. Say, Sam! Bring another cart up this way."
"Sure thing, boss. Got a few bins of some real weird stuff I've been waitin' to send up. Couple of the guys call 'em fan-fictionals? Somethin' like that. Sure gives me the willies."
Healthy Living
"Mom, what is...carra...geenan gum?"
"Oh, does that have carrageenan in it? Put it down. Grab that one instead."
"What about this?"
"Let me see the label. No, it has canola oil in it."
"Is that bad?"
"It's inflammatory."
"What does that mean?"
"It...creates inflammation. It's bad for your health. Makes you fat."
"Ooh! Mom! I saw a commercial for this! Can we get it?!"
"What's in it? Oh, honey. This has three artificial dyes. Look, there's a naturally flavored version right next to it. It's non-GMO. Put it in the cart. Now, let's go ahead and get out of here. Family yoga is at seven and we still need to pick your sister up from her Konscious Kids crafting class.
------
"Alright ma'am...your total is...$347.62."
"347...oh. Hm. Okay. Can I take this, this, this, and this off? Thanks. Kai, honey?"
"Yeah, mom?"
"Do you see these items here? Will you run back and get the store brand versions?"
"But I thought they make you sick."
"Not this weekend, they won't. Hurry up, I don't want to hold up the line."
"Yes ma'am."
"Oh, and Kai-"
"Yeah?"
"Grab a box of Cheez-Its on your way back. Your father will be happy to see them in the house."
The Official Consensus on the Gastrointestinal Systems of Fantastical Creatures
It has been a long debated issue within the Fantastical Studies community as to which species expels the most pungent waste from their bowels. Over the centuries, researchers have narrowed it down to two species: angels and fairies. Angel experts, and even some angels themselves, maintain that their excrement is far worse than any creature as small as a fairy could produce. Fairies have little to say on the matter, and the argument for their flatulence is made primarily by the groups dedicated to observing them.
One of the things that has made this debate so difficult is the odd fact that angel flatulence is unable to be compared to fairy flatulence and fairy fecal matter cannot be compared to angel feces, either. By all accounts, fairy feces and angel flatulence are nearly undetectable while their opposites have been known to clear all life from royal chambers and even large sections of forested areas. Since the two are rarely found in the same places and both are known to be elusive and finicky creatures, it has taken teams of researchers a rather long time to collect the data necessary to determine which is more offensive to the senses. Thankfully, after centuries of research and speculation, The Committee for Fantastical Biology has come to a consensus.
Fairies have energy systems that rely predominantly on air and starlight. Their bodies take in the gases from the air around them and uses them to stay lightweight so their wings do not have to work quite as hard. The starlight is absorbed through their unique layers of skin and gives them the energy needed to zip around the forest. The fairies then supplement themselves with a diet of moss and fungi. The waste from these elements are expelled from their bodies in two ways: their skin and their anuses. Fairies are known to "sweat" a shimmery powder, known in layman's terms as pixie dust. Pixie dust has many uses and is sought after by magical practitioners and "rave kids" for its divinatory properties and hallucinogenic effects. From their bowels comes a small but concentrated stream of flatulence that is highly combustible and has been known to cause forest fires as well as asphyxiation in humanoid species. The gas is expelled in bursts, and due to a fairy's constant turnover of energy, it is consistently released from their bodies. Fairy feces is something akin to rodent pellets, typically odorless, and is usually found within close proximity to flushes of mushrooms.
Angels, however, can process any source of light for energy but sustain themselves mainly on cloud vapor. As the vapor travels through their body, it becomes more dense and exits in a more solid form than which it entered. Angels who are consuming pure, clean clouds are likely to have bowel movements that smell something similar to static and are hot enough to burn through steel. But due to the constant pollution in Earth's air, more and more angels are consuming cloud vapor that is riddled with harmful chemicals and gases. While angels have a very effective detoxification system that allows them go unaffected, these toxins are expelled from the body in sludge-like clumps. Like fairy farts, these toxic clumps are highly combustible and make it very easy to know when an angel has visited Earth.
It is a logical conclusion that due to the similarity in the energy systems and consumption habits of angels and fairies, the two would be very strongly matched in the way their bodies function. However, since fairies still rely on some sort of organic matter to thrive, the official consensus is that the decay and eventual expulsion of used organic matter from their bodies makes their waste more pungent and therefore smellier to more beings. The Officials for Angel Relations have stated that they are divided over the findings, as some angels feel shame over not surpassing the fairies while others are only further convinced of their superiority. There has been no word from the Folks for Fairy Affiliation, but sources have stated the fairies do not particularly care about these results.
The Committee would like to note that in their research, it was revealed angel feces contaminated with toxic cloud vapor can cause cancerous cells in humans. If discovered, please contact the Magical Waste Unit as soon as possible to ensure proper disposal. If you are in the forest for long periods of time, please be sure to bring Committee approved gas masks in the event of a strong wave of fairy flatulence and of course, always check for traces of fairy gas before lighting campfires.
Ceremony
You, there. Pull these thorns from my feet.
What? No. Don't be ridiculous. It's your turn. Quit whining. It's a rite of passage.
Why?
Because you're an idiot.
A dense, adolescent, ignorant little fool.
I've been in this wood a near century now. My bones ache, but at least I know how to treat them.
What? I don't know why you have to go. No, I'm not telling you why I did either. You don't need my bundle of confusion, you've got plenty of your own.
Excuses? You're not confused? HA.
Just wait until you hit your thirteenth year by the twisted river. You'll stare into the bubbling foam until you forget the purpose of your birth. Your own mother's face will melt into the void and you won't know whether to hold onto the image of her weeping or let her tears melt within the rocks.
Cleansers never tell you that part. They know better.
Go on, now. You'll know what you're looking for when you find it.
Hurry. It flashes for a moment only.
Thin Lines
"The creature’s spine, shattered again.
Vultures take note. It tries to crawl
across golden sands,
stagnancy is its overseer.
It writhes and curls in pain,
lifeless burlap clings to fur.
Scavengers move
with such great haste,
no empathy
for a fractured frame.
How long will I lie here,
braying into dust and heat?
The vultures circle,
I am not yet dead.
Bone pickers have patience."
Dr. Subtain removed his glasses and sat them on the end table.
"Are you the camel, Ree?"
Ree shifted in her seat, refusing eye contact with the well meaning doctor. Subtain continued, knowing he would not receive an answer.
"The creative writing instructor brought this to me this morning. She was rather concerned about the tone of your poem. With your discharge scheduled for tomorrow, I have to say I share her concern. Out of the weeks I've come to know you, you haven't shared much. Though your pain is evident."
Silence.
"I've been in contact with your aunt. She filled in some gaps for me. About you. Your mother. She also mentioned a close friend of yours that's been inquiring about your status. They're all very excited to have you home."
The young woman shifted again, this time to face the doctor. She pulled her sleeves over her wrists and looked him meekly in the eye.
"You are valid in your fear and heartbreak. Most who come through these doors are also facing fear and heartbreak. But you, Ree, have what many don't. You have a group of people who love you, who want to see the best for you, and will do whatever they can to keep you safe. You’re not in this world alone. You wouldn't be here if you were. "
Ree watched quietly as the doctor pushed out his chair and reached into a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a blue folder thick with documents, opened it, and continued to speak.
"I want to discuss what discharge looks like for you. By no means is the end of your care, but we want for you to take the time to heal in your own environment. Here's a list of medications I'm going to send you off wi...."
The doctor's voice faded out. Ree’s eyes darted between the stark white paper and the doctor’s lips, but his words failed to register. She was going home. Where her uncle assessed the cost of repairs in a water damaged bathroom. Where her aunt scrubbed at the crimson stains left in guest towels and favorite t-shirts. Kind smiles were not enough to absolve her guilt. The remnants of her damage lingered.
Domestic Bliss
He throws his apron on the couch, lights a cigarette.
She ignores his arrival, flips through channels.
"Did you take out the trash?"
"No."
"Do the dishes?"
"No."
"Feed the cat?"
"No."
"I can't believe I left the palace for this..."
She takes a smoke from his pack.
Lights it, blows it in his face.
" All hail his majesty, King of the Doublewide."
She laughs at her own joke, stamps out a barely smoked cigarette. Walks away.
He thinks to himself, "I should have broken the damn slipper."
Routines
Serevina slammed the microwave door shut. She pressed the 1, the 0, the 0 again, and the Start button. The resulting hum was a symphony of convenience, one she'd grown familiar with since RJ arrived. Somehow, even as their mother was wasting away, there seemed to be more time, more opportunity. As the stork approached, the remnants of who she was seemed to fall to the wayside in favor of nursery décor, breastfeeding lectures and webinars about the early signs of postpartum depression.
The microwave beeped. She looked at the directions on the plastic wrap sealed to the top of the tray. "Stir, then place back in for an additional minute." Not one to disobey, she heeded the poorly printed instructions and placed the plastic tray back into the microwave. Another minute, and it would beep again. Hopefully the shrill tone wouldn't wake the baby strapped to her chest. He never wanted to be put down.
She didn't know where her sister was. She wasn't going to the push the issue, not this time. Elena had done so much already, and she had her own way of processing things. At least this time it was a man instead of mini-bottles. Though, as Serevina knew well enough, the comfort of a man could be addictive in its own right.
The microwave beeped a second time. She touched her finger to the top of the tray. The meal was lukewarm. They usually were. The directions were flawed. She slammed the door again. Pressed the button again. She thought to complain, but the thought faded. She would make it work. She was a beggar, not a chooser.
The door handle jiggled and Elena walked through the entryway wearing a sheepish grin. She hadn't come home last night and offered an apology equally as lukewarm as Serevina's TV dinner. The baby strapped to Serevina's chest stirred and began to wail loudly against her sternum, rooting manically in search of food and comfort. Serevina sighed. Elena grimaced.
Serevina shot a silent plea toward her baby sister. Wordlessly, Elena pulled the infant from his carrier and placed him awkwardly over her shoulder. Serevina watched nervously but said nothing. Elena had been criticized enough.
The microwave beeped again, insistent that its contents be removed. In the midst of the newborn's crying, Elena opened a drawer to her right, pulled out a plastic fork and handed it to her big sister. Like magic, a bottle appeared within the chipped polish of Elena's fingertips and she slowly headed up the stairs to feed her howling nephew.
Serevina watched them ascend the stairs, exhaling deeply as the door to the nursery closed. She opened the microwave door and dropped the steaming tray onto the dining room table. She twiddled the plastic fork between her fingers, then finally stabbed the pennies-on-the-dollar mystery meat and shoved it into her mouth.
If there was no one else, at least there was Elena.